(Baby) Bumps Along the Way
by Fruitcake14
Summary: The story of Katniss and Peeta discovering they are expecting a baby. Lots of Everlark fluff. Canon. Post-Mockingjay.
1. Chapter 1

**Thanks for choosing my story! I have become obsessed with Everlark recently and became inspired to write this.**

**I'm probably just going to wing it the entire way so let's hope this goes well!**

I observed myself up and down in the mirror, drinking back the naked image. The image not being as attractive as I wished it would be. I start with the top of my head. The common dark hair of the Seam sprouts out of it. Mangled, as usual- it looks like I haven't brushed it for days. The wind from the open window blows my stringy hair into my face as I breathe in the scent of my new vanilla shampoo.

I move on to my eyes and eyebrows. Average, could use a plucking here and there, but I'm satisfied by what I find.

I look over at the timer- two minutes left.

My lips and nose are just as plain as they were the day before but my cheeks surrounding them have begun to swell- most likely from all the cheese buns I've been eating from Peeta's bakery and the constant hunting. At least I hope.

I skim past my torso, trying to ignore what's there and look at my feet, which have swellled up just as my face has. I chuckle slightly at the sight of the pedicure Peeta tried to give me today. Let's just say that he may be terrific at decorating intricate cakes but when it comes to painting toenails, he's clumsier than a bull in a china shop.

My legs could use a shaving but why bother when the weather is so cold? It's not like they'll be exposed anyway. Peeta will be the only when to see and feel them, but when has he ever cared?

I take a deep breath try to remain calm. Just thinking of him touching me sets me over the edge. My hormones have been so sporadic lately. I glance at the timer again and see that I have one more minute before my assumptions are confirmed.

When I can finally muster up the courage to examine my stomach- the area I have been dreading to see- I see the soft bump that has grown. Barely noticeable and easy to hide but very much there. Maybe I'm just being paranoid. It's probably from the cheese buns.

The self reassurance doesn't make me feel any better.

Then the timer goes off.

I can't take my eyes of the little clock I set just three minutes ago with nervous fingers. Staring at it, I hope that it will give me just a little more time. More time to lie to myself, more time to hide the truth. More time for the sake of more time.

Making sure the bathroom door is locked I pull out the plastic stick from the sink drawer. I don't want anyone with me when I find out.

Sitting down at the edge of the tub, I try to prolong the reveal as long as possible. What if it came out positive? What if I'm carrying his child?

Just like ripping off a bandage, I flip over the test.

Two little pink lines.

Two little lines that have the ability to destroy me.

A loud crack comes from behind my head as searing pain spreads across my forehead and spine. I never even noticed that I began to fall backwards until I heard that sound. Even then I was still frozen. The blood sliding toward the tub drain didn't stir me, nor did the frantic banging on the door. Closing my eyes I prayed that this sleep would take me, or bring me to a reality that wasn't this.

The bathroom door springs open just as the darkness envelopes me.

* * *

The comfort of the bed is just too strong for me to leave. I roll over and expect to feel Peeta laying next to me fast asleep like every morning but instead I find an empty pillow.

"Peeta?" My voice is soft and hoarse, it's unlikely that he heard anything at all.

The rush of blood to my head when I swing my legs over the side of the bed is enough to blind me for a few seconds. After the dizzy spell ends I feel the too familiar nausea to rise up in me. Making my dash to the bathroom, I ignore the pulsating in my skull. Vomiting up whatever was left inside me I stand up and meet eyes with my reflection. A bandage has been wrapped around my head, flattening down my hair which is caked in blood. I flush the toilet without breaking eye contact when I notice the test still in the tub.

The results remain the same: I am pregnant.

The blood has been cleaned up meaning only one thing- Peeta saw the test.

He had to. He spent his time leaning over a bloody bath tub, there's no way he didn't see it. I feel the sob in my throat rise up as tears pour out of my eyes. With my clammy hands I fondle the stick and look for some way to prove that it was wrong. It had to be wrong.

There's no possible way that I could be pregnant. I never wanted children, despite Peeta's insistence. Fifteen years passed and there was no way I was ever going to bear kids. Not even if I lived in the perfect Utopia would I choose to have children. Growing up in a society thats main source of entertain is the murder of adolescents is bound to make anyone hope to never raise a child in the fear that they might be chosen for their game.

Wiping away the last tear I slowly rise, attempting to avoid another inevitable headache. As calmly as possible I make the march from the bedroom down the stairs into the kitchen, the place I know he'll be.

I when I finally see him, his head is buried in his hands that are clenched tightly around his perfect blonde hair. He looks absolutely and completely beautiful. His tight jawline flexes in rhythm with his breathing that sounds like music to my ears. Everything about Peeta, my Peeta is perfect.

The moment I shift my weight from my left to right leg, causing the wooden floor boards to squeak back in response.

Peeta's head pops up immediately.

And that's when I see it.

The tightly clasped hands, furrowed brow, hard jawline.

This is not my Peeta.

"I found the test, whore." He spits at me on the last word, "It was in a pool of blood. You tried to kill it didn't you? You tried to murder MY flesh and blood."

"Peeta. Peeta, baby. Come on. This isn't you! Sweety, remember me? I love you…" I manage to squeak out before he slams my body against the wall. The pulsing in my head reaches a deafening frequency.

"Why the FUCK would I love you?! You tried to kill my child, filthy fucking MUTT."

I try not to let the words sting, and attempt to push my husband off of my body.

"Peeta, please. Peeta! You'll hurt the baby!"

"I'LL hurt the baby! You already killed it!"

I look him in the eyes. His beautiful eyes of blue, the ones that comfort me and love me, but they are now turned stone cold and filled with hate.

My Peeta is gone.

And I need to get this stranger off of me.

Kicking him in the groin gives me the time I need to make my escape. I run to the doorway but trip over the step up from the kitchen. Hijacked Peeta lunges on top of me and raises a fist that is aiming towards my face. I grab his free hand in my own and pull it on to my stomach. The place where our child is nestled.

"Do you feel that?" I inquire, "That little bump is OUR baby. YOUR baby Peeta." I see a glimmer of my husband return in his eyes for just a split second but soon reverts back to his hijacked counterpart.

He drops his fist into my face and I hear the crack of my nose. Only I don't feel it. "See? The baby is just fine!" My voice cracks and my mouth fills with blood just when another punch lands on my cheek. A rogue tooth falls out of my mouth when I no more than whisper, "Please, come back. I love you."

The pressure of my husband falls off me as I close my eyes. Utter exhaustion crashes over me as I hear the kitchen phone being dialed. Moments later, the force returns- but this time softer and around my fingers. I open my eyes for just a moment to see my husband with tear streaks down his face watching over me. His mouth is forming words that I cannot make out.

Closing my eyes again, I fall into a deep, deep sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Being unconscious is a lot different in real life than it is in the movies. Everyone always awakens by slowly parting their eyelids, yawning, stretching after their long sleep, but not me. No, I woke up screaming. Gasping for air that wouldn't come. Air that refused to fill up my lungs. The nightmare I had seemed all too real for me. Peeta was again hijacked but instead of attacking me like he usually takes his rage out on; he was running towards a sleeping infant with a bread knife.

And there was nothing I could do.

My own shrieking was what woke me up. I laid back on the hospital bed, trying to slow the hyperventilating and catch a full breath. The pain in my head returned to an impossibly loud banging as my heart raced incredibly fast. Too fast. What if it hurts the baby?

That thought stopped my breathing all together.

Did I lose it? Has it died like the two before it? Since when did I care about the child?

Panic attacks have been a constant event after the war but none of them have felt like this. My fingers and toes went completely numb and the burning in my chest was becoming unbearable. My heart was beating so fast that the machine calculating my pulse next to me screeched for the nurses.

Unsure of what direction I was facing I saw the bodies dressed in all white rush into the room. One of them grabs my face and aligns their eyes with my own. "Katniss, look at me. Katniss. Relax. Breathe."

Struggling to follow her advice I suck in as much air as possible and slowly let it out. She breathes deeply along with me. We repeat for awhile, until my heart rate lowers into a safe zone.

"I'm going to run and get you some ice cubes. Can't have you dehydrated now can we?" I nod slightly and watch her as she leaves. A couple of nurses stay behind, examining my injuries. Apparently my face in the highlight of their curiosity. Throughout the entirety of that whole ordeal, I'd totally forgotten that my nose had been broken by Peeta.

I widen my eyes at the name and manage to squeak out, "Peeta…"

The nurse observing my nose and mouth sighs, "He's in the waiting room. We told him to wait until we could get you stable."

The first nurse returns with my ice cubes and pops one into my mouth. I didn't realize how dry my throat had become until I felt the water melt and wet it.

Clearing my throat I plead, "Could I…uh… Could you please send in Peeta. I want to see him."

"Of course." I can't help but notice the sadness in her eyes as she retracts away from me.

The moments before she enters the room again feel like an eternity. I continue to watch the door close behind her, waiting for my gorgeous love to walk in. Just when I begin to think that he isn't coming, the door reopens.

He's carrying roses, and tulips, and daisies. The three different bouquets make me snort out a chuckle. It's so like him to feel that just one set of flowers isn't enough. His hair is a mess and he's wearing only one shoe- obviously he didn't bother to get ready.

It's only when I meet his beautiful blue eyes do I see the sadness and regret within them. With as much strength that I can find within me I hold out the arm that isn't hooked into the machines. Peeta tenderly walks into it. His tear soaked face wets my shoulder as I run my fingers through his hair. I hear the flowers fall against the tile floor.

"Kat…" he mumurs.

"Shh…" I cut him off. I won't hear him apologize. I refuse to.

We hold each other for God knows how long. I run my fingers up and down his shoulder blades in awe over the brute strength of them. He stares into my eyes and doesn't let go of his gaze. I lean forward to kiss him, kiss the face that I love- but he turns his head.

Peeta moves to stand up when a rather large woman in a long white coat walks into the room.

"Good morning Mrs. Mellark." Peeta and I both dart our eyes over to the lady with the clipboard, "My name is Dr. Abella and I will be taking care of you while you stay here." She begins to write on the papers she carried in with her. "Now, let's start with your head. Care to tell me what happened there?"

"I… um… I fell in the bathroom and hit my head inside the tub."

"Well, the good news is is that you do not have a concussion." A gush a relief pours out of me. "Bad news: you're going to have a killer headache for a week or so. Now, do you want to tell me about the rest of your injuries?"

I eye Peeta and see him bite down hard on his tongue, it's always what he does when he tries to fight off tears.

"My husband, has this problem." I begin, "there are times where he can't… distinguish what is real and what is not. When he has one of these episodes, he tends to get violent; usually at me." Her eyebrows rise at the last comment.

Peeta keeps his gaze away from either of us and stares at the wall. I clutch his hand but he makes no effort to return the gesture.

"I'll just go over my notes I gathered from your examination. Your nose is broken, which you probably could have guessed, and you've lost a tooth. Any dentist in the Capitol can fix that so I've taken the liberty of finding you one." She passes me a card that I put next to me. "There are no fractures on your skull so you don't have any problems to worry about there. I've prescribed you medication to help with the migraines you'll be enduring but honey, there's not much I can do in that department." She crosses her legs and folds her hands over her lap, all while taking on a more serious face. "On to the more pressing issue."

I know what she's going to say. That I've lost this baby like I've lost Orchid and Grandis before her. I try to hide the sinking feeling in my chest but I can't help it. Peeta still hasn't moved. I know I disappointed him.

"The baby was in distress for longer than I ever would have wanted it to be." Dr. Abella states. I squeeze Peeta's hand, "It being so small and vulnerable its surprising that the fetus is still alive."

I react to this news much better than I did when I officially discovered the pregnancy. Tears of joy roll down my cheeks and I pull Peeta in close. The hardened look on his face has softened and a one beautiful, wonderful tear drips from his eye and on to my hospital gown.

Dr. Abella breaks our moment with her voice, "But! Katniss, you need to be on your toes at all times. You've miscarried twice already and this child has already gotten it's fair share of worry from both of its parents and me. I want you to carry to term this time." I nod furiously through my tears and reach up, planting a big wet kiss on my husband's face.

Making eye contact with Peeta I whisper so only he can hear me, "I can tell that this one's a fighter."


	3. Chapter 3

**I was not expecting to get the incredible amount of feedback! And all in one day! Thank you so much. This chapter is mainly filler but I hope you enjoy. Please, add your ideas in the reviews, I want to know what you think! **

The ride home after a week at the hospital was the hardest part of the entire trip.

A few years back District 6, whose speciality was transportation before the war, sent us a car as a gift that Peeta and I barely used. Walking everywhere was second nature for the two of us so we never saw the point in learning how to operate it. We left it in the garage of our house for over a decade but now, I really wish we were taught the proper way of driving.

Every turn Peeta makes sends me rocketing around the cabin. The amount of times I've hit my already aching head against the window is astonishing. It seems like we've run over every bump in the road.

"Peeta. Stop the car."

"What?"

"Stop the car. Right now Peeta." he jams on the brakes and watches me as I wrench open the door. I take a few wobbly steps and puke all over the snow on the side of the road. This nausea is going to kill me.

With shaky legs I stumble back into the car to find my husband wide eyed in the driver's seat. I slowly shut the door and rest my head against the chair. When the car doesn't move I open up one eye to find Peeta staring at me. He's been doing that a lot lately.

I sigh, "What."

He raises his eyebrows and puts the car into gear, this time trying to make the ride much smoother. I appreciate the effort, I just wish that he started out driving like that.

We pull up to the house, thankfully Peeta doesn't slam on the brakes this time. I go to open the door when he stops me.

"Wait, I'll get it for you." Either he's trying to be a gentleman or he still feels guilty. I hope it's not the latter.

When he opens the door I hold out my hand for him to help me up. My head still incredibly sore and throwing off my balance.

I look him in the eyes, "Thank you. I would kiss you right now, but you'd probably want me to brush my teeth first." I see a hint of a smile creep across his face; a sight I haven't seen for days now.

Peeta helps me into the house carefully, making sure that I don't slip on any ice. He unlocks and holds the door open for me as I take a step inside. No one's cleaned up since the accident. I look back at Peeta. I hope this sight doesn't spark another episode.

Holding out my hand towards him he guides me to the living room where I sprawl out on the couch- utterly exhausted from the day's events. It's only 10 am.

Peeta kneels down next to me, "Can I get you anything?"

Putting my hand on his face I shake my head. He still looks so shaken up.

"You haven't eaten today. How about I bake you something?"

"That sounds like a great idea." I return with a smile. He kisses my hand and walks into the kitchen. I watch him until he's gone. Knowing that what he's going to make me will take a while, I decide that maybe a nap will be the best course of action.

Drifting off to sleep I breathe in the smell of the freshly washed pillow case. The mesmerizing aroma carries me to unconsciousness as I unknowingly place my right hand over my stomach; protecting what lies within.


	4. Chapter 4

**Story's moving a bit slower than I intended but what ever. It's kind of writing itself.**

**Enjoy!**

Peeta wakes me up after an hour of cooking and baking. He leads me over to the dining room table to see the fruits of his labor; eggs with peppers and my favorite- strawberry tarts from our garden.

"So I was thinking…" Peeta began after a long streak of silence, I move my eyes from the eggs on my plate to my husband. "Maybe we could go to Johanna's party this weekend?" Johanna had just moved to 12. Apparently 7 has gotten too dull for her tastes.

"Peeta…" I start.

He cuts me off, "I mean, if you're feeling well enough."

"Well, that depends."

"On what?"

"If you will be driving or not."

He smiles at me, "Do you want me to?"

"Oh God no. Never again."

Peeta picks up his glass of water and continues watching me while he sips it.

"What are you thinking about?" I ask.

He swallows and places the glass down, "How beautiful you are." I can't help but blush, "and how lucky I am to have you."

We reach across the table and hold hands. His thumb caresses my palm when I hear my stomach growl.

"You know what?" I ask.

"What?" he returns.

"It was your idea to make me breakfast and now you won't let me eat. Come on Peeta, how am I supposed to grow your human on an empty stomach?" I say sarcastically. We both give a little laugh at my comment and resume eating.

When he finish, I stand to help clean the plates when Peeta comes rushing over, hands on my shoulders.

"Whoa, what do you think you're doing?"

I sit back down and raise my eyebrows, "Helping you wash the dishes. Like I do every time we eat?"

"Not this time. This time you just sit back and relax." I begin to argue back when you cuts me off, "you heard the doctor. You need to take things easy."

"Peeta…"

"Please? For the baby?"

He's found my weak spot. I slump in my seat and watch him as he empties the table from our meal. He comes back to join me in the dining room when the doorbell rings. Peeta leaves to go get it while I remain at the empty table.

"Who was that?" I ask when he returns.

"Just Haymitch." He says with a shrug, "Wanted to know how you were doing that's all."

"Why didn't you let him in?"

"I figured you needed your rest."

I rise, trying to ignore the dizziness that accompanies standing up. "Peeta, I'm not a glass doll. I won't break." He lowers his head. I place my hand under his chin and force him to look at me. "Don't forget, I'm still the Girl on Fire."

He kisses my hand then clutches it to his chest. "I know. I just want to protect you," he gets on his knees, his metallic leg squeaking the whole way down, "and my little bump here." He lightly traces a circle with his finger tip around the risen part of my stomach. I can't help but smile at the gesture. Peeta just looks so comfortable. He truly is meant to be a father.


End file.
